Not Her
by smileyanne
Summary: This time it wasn't Jenny who was sick. This time it's Gibbs. Set season 5
1. Prologue

**A/N: There are plenty of stories about the rest of the team being sick or injured, but there are only a few Gibbs H/C stories. And usually they're only stories about him being shot or something. So, I'm going to write one where Gibbs is ill.**

**On the topic of this story. I've never had cancer before, and even though I'm doing research on it I'm afraid I may still get some facts wrong. If any of the readers sadly do (or have ever had) cancer before know that I greatly admire your fight. Especially now that I know a little bit more on the topic.**

**I'm going to use a bit of leeway and make, what I've researched to be a usually treatable cancer, into well... Remember Gibbs is in Jenny's condition here.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS**

* * *

"Oh, come on!"

Tony DiNozzo was _not _a happy man. First of all his alarm had conveniently not gone off leaving him an hour late. Then after a hurried shower he'd found out that his cell phone had 'magically' been silenced, leaving him with twelve missed calls from the office.

Now, it seemed as if his precious mustang had betrayed him.

Using his balled up fist he banged on the steering wheel one more time. It didn't matter that he was bruising his knuckles and most likely doing more harm than good, it was either that or he took a crowbar and started beating random cars. And he didn't own a crowbar!

One more hard bang before he'd give in and call a taxi.

'Vroooommm!'

He wasn't going to question where this sudden new life came from. He was just going to get to work. And on the way try to come up with an adequate excuse as to why he broke rule 3.

* * *

_Please don't have a case..._

_Please don't have a case..._

The mantra was on constant replay in his head as he raced for the bank of elevators along the far wall. Just barely catching the doors to one in time, he hopped on to it with a sigh of relief.

Now, all he had to do was hope and pray Gibbswas on a coffee run.

He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head back to look at the floor numbers.

_Awww, crap._

The elevators in the NCIS building were currently the part of the building that was under renovation. Since each crew member and workmen that came in and out of the building had to have an extensive background check, and each team had to be supervised by at least a team of four agents. Director Shepard had decided to only bring in one crew and only have to shut down one elevator at a time.

So with only five elevators open, shouldn't he be packed in like a can of sardines with ten other agents?

And shouldn't the elevator be moving up at a normal pace? Not crawling up like each floor was causing it pain?

Going so slowly from years of the emergency brake being abused.

Of course, today of all days he had to step onto Gibbs' personal conference room. It was common knowledge around the agency, that you didn't step foot onto _this _elevator unless you wanted to be interrogated and get a personal ass kicking.

Could today get any worse?

Actually... he didn't want to know the answer to that. But a thought had just occurred to him, hadn't the doors been open when he had first stepped on?

Had someone been waiting for this elevator?

* * *

Everything was..._fuzzy._

That was the only word that could be used to describe his vision as he painstakingly slowly peeled his eyelids open. After he accomplished that simple feat, he concentrated on doing the impossible. Sitting up.

Once he managed to straighten himself into a somewhat erect position he took the opportunity to look around. He was strangely relieved to notice the familiar settings of his basement. Which must have meant he'd fallen asleep under the boat.

Again.

It was weird though, he did not remember even touching the bottle of bourbon last night. Why would he be relieved to find he had woken up in his own home? In surroundings he found himself in almost every morning?

With a groan he pushed those questions aside and worked on getting himself out from under the boat. Slipping out, carefully so as not to hit his head, he stood up slowly and realized something. His shirt was soaked.

Standing with one hand against the boat to support him in the onslaught of the headache that decided then to make itself known. He reached with the other and grabbed a loose handful of the thin material the gray shirt he was wearing was made out of. The front of the t-shirt all along his chest, and he was sure his back looked like that too, was splotched with dark patches of sweat.

This morning suddenly made sense, last night he must have had a nightmare. But, it was strange though, no matter how hard he tried to recall he could not remember exactly what the nightmare had been about. It was frustrating.

Slowly he tried to take stock of the rest of the situation. His head was pounding out a furious rhythm, as if it were taunting him against his denial of bourbon. His shirt was soaked through-n-through from what must have been a terrible nightmare. And now that he thought about it, his whole body _hurt. _His bones felt he'd slept on concrete all night.

Oh, wait... he had!

As he took a tentative step forward from his boat, he made a solemn promise to himself that sometime soon he was going to rediscover what his bed felt like. Maybe then he could get a good nights sleep and not wake up with his bones aching and the feeling that he was about to collapse from exhaustion.

* * *

After a quick shower and a few curses once he realized he was late Gibbs was finally walking through the NCIS entrance. Of course with his ever present coffee cup in hand. A stop for coffee was always excusable. That at least was what he told himself.

Until he remembered he was Gibbs, and he didn't have to make excuses to anyone.

Except maybe... a certain redhead.

As he was leaning against the wall opposite of his preferred elevator, his thoughts roamed. Lately, things between himself and Jenny had started to, even-out, for lack of a better word.

It seemed after the whole Benoit is dead fiasco had been taken care of Jenny had finally seen the light and realized there was no one there with her to celebrate. That somewhere along the way she'd lost all her friends.

Including, him.

In the beginning he'd watched and waited patiently and sometimes not so patiently for her to struggle through learning a rough lesson on her own. One he'd tried to keep her from having to learn, but true to her nature she hadn't listened to him. So instead she had to deal with the guilt of knowing that she most likely ruined another young woman's life, and yet revenged hadn't tasted as sweet as she'd thought it would.

He wasn't ashamed to admit to the fact that he'd been quite proud in the way she had finally pulled herself together and realized if she wanted to get her friends back then she'd have to do it herself. Her first 'mission' had been Abby.

Though Abby had been just as mad at Jenny as the rest of them, everyone knew she was the most forgiving. Even Jenny. And as far as he could tell it had taken one week, lots of excessive time spent in the lab, and multiple Caf-Pow's. Now, Jenny was officially 'Mommy' in the eyes of the Goth again.

Her second 'mission' had been Tim. During those two weeks that Jenny had taken an abnormal amount of notice in his Probie Gibbs had actually felt sorry for him. He knew that the younger man still had the, 'respect for authority even if it they aren't Gibbs' attitude, while Tony and Ziva had seemed to have came ingrained with the, 'if they aren't Gibbs don't listen attitude'. So, it had gone against his agents better judgement to tell his Director where she could shove it, even though Gibbs knew that Tim felt like he would be betraying his teammates if he suddenly became buddy-buddy with her.

Honestly, he didn't have a clue who she would choose as her third project. The only people left were; Tony, Ziva, Ducky, and himself. He didn't know if she had done it intentionally or not, but he knew for a fact that three of the remaining people were the ones that opinions really matter to her. And that would have the hardest time forgiving her.

It wasn't long before he found out who her third person would be, Ducky. Even though it was vindictive he remembered clearly feeling a brief thrill when he realized she would actually have to work for someones approval. Instead of fixing everything with a few Caf-Pow's and compliments. Ducky had known her longer, back when she had been happier. Maybe he would confront her on how she had changed? Lord, knows that would've answered many questions for himself. But, he'd yet to figure out if those questions had answers or even if Ducky had confronted her. All he knew is that a month after she started her 'mission', Ducky and herself could be in the same room and be civil. Sometimes even friendly.

Now in his opinion, Jenny was going into uncharted territory. Though Ducky wouldn't have hesitated in bringing up something 'delicate' if it mattered, he would've done it in a polite and civilized manner. No matter how mad. Tony and Ziva though, wouldn't be afraid to let loose and allow Jenny to feel their anger, and for that Gibbs was glad. So, when Jenny came into the bullpen one day and manged to coerce Ziva into a late lunch. And Ziva had looked to him before even glancing in the direction of their mutual ex-partner, he couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips because if the Israeli's wink had been anything to go by Ziva and himself were on the same page. For the next month or so after that Ziva had been passive aggressive and Jenny and been resigned but determined. There were; mango berry smoothies left on her desk, lunch breaks they both so happened to be at the same restaurants during, and even one door slamming fight that Gibbs had been particularly proud of. It wasn't until the beginning of the sixth week that the tension broke, all because Ziva had deemed her a 'shalom, Jenny' as the Director made her way to her office. Women, he'd never understand them.

Jenny's next endeavor after Ziva would most likely take the most time and effort considering the last two people left she had yet to make up with were Tony and himself. He knew who her next mission would be, and it certainly wasn't himself.

Struggling to get back in a friendship with Ziva must have taken a lot out of her, considering she didn't make the first move on Tony until a few weeks after Ziva had greeted her. She made her first step close to the three months ago.

It started out with a few simply polite greetings, then it had evolved into the thing DiNozzo was best at, flirting. Apparently it seemed doing something that they both had a common interest in had broken the ice between them after awhile. Now, it seemed like that whole Jeannne Benoit incident had never occurred between them. And all because of some damn _flirting. _

It pissed him off.

Ziva, at least had made her jump through a few hoops to get back on her relative good side. And, on one Monday after they get in DiNozzo's called into her office, stays in there for three hours, comes out and everything is peachy?! That was a month and half after she started in on Tony, and for the past month and a half after that there had been; flirting, teasing, laughs, and jokes. And scuttlebutt running wild.

The gossip going around was about an affair between the Director and one of her agents, only this time the agent in question was different. This time it was Tony. It was true if you took them at face value, that it looked like they were having an affair. Though there was never any public displays of affection between them, there dynamic had changed. He had heard a few remarks about how it was like Tony had taken Gibbs' place with her. While Gibbs had all but faded into the background lately. And Jenny had heard these comments too.

Considering how when Gibbs was around she walked just a little bit closer to Tony. How when he would look up at the catwalk and they were there she would lay a hand on his arm and lean in a little closer.

He knew what she was doing, and he didn't care.

Because unlike everyone else in the building he was adept enough to see that there was nothing going on between them. Not only because Jenny despised dating younger men, but because Tony _couldn't_ handle Jenny. Even though the cocky man obviously thought he could, he wouldn't know what to do or how to act when he went to wake her up from a nightmare and she pulled a knife on him, or when she didn't want to talk about her past because half the time she had been with him and they had been killing people, or when she begged him to make the heartbreak go away with sex.

Jenny was damaged, like himself. Damaged on a level that Tony had never seen, and would hopefully never have too.

So, he was perfectly happy letting the little game she was playing drift to the back of his mind. He had other things to concentrate on besides his ex-lover and senior field agent.

And as the elevator _finally _arrived he raised his coffee cup to his lips, he felt the burning liquid sting his gums. Attributing it to the temperature he swallowed, and walking forward to step into the empty metal box he looked down at what was supposed to be the pristine white rim of his cup. Instead he saw it marked with deep red stains right where his lips had been.

Abandoning the elevator in favor of walking down the corridor towards the men's room. He was acutely reminded of just why he was too busy to care if Jenny and Tony were doing the horizontal tango.

* * *

**Ok, so I'm retracting my motto for this one. But, only for this chapter. Even in most stories that involve one of the team members having cancer they never really go into depth. I will go into depth. **

**Now, I don't want flames. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm insecure in my writing. But, what I do want is y'alls honest opinion. Do you think I should continue with this? If I get three review by the end of the week saying I shouldn't continue with this, then the story will be off the site by the end of the week.**


	2. Meeting Lilly

**A/N: Ok, just remember you asked for it...**

**DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN NCIS**

* * *

"Hello, McGoober. How are you this fine morning?" Tony chirped, bouncing out of the elevator with an enthusiasm he wished he wasn't faking. He'd been fine before the whole elevator fiasco, if you didn't count the nervousness at facing Gibbs when he was late. Taking a swift account of his surrounding he realized that while Ziva was hunched over her desk, immersed in some paperwork forms. While Gibbs was no where in sight.

That, along with his pondering on the elevator ride had him on the edge, faking a cheerful calm he was so far from feeling.

"I'm just fine Tony," McGee responded without even sparing the older man a glance. "Butttt," he drawled looking up from the computer screen he was so engrossed in with a big cocky smile,"I don't think you'll be so happy once Gibbs finds out how late you are."

Tony sighed, the smile drooping the slightest bit. Without hesitating he made his way over to his desk, depositing his gear before he asked his next question. "Well McTattletale, is he in," he figured it was a shot in the dark, but there was no harm in confirming. Actually he didn't know what he wanted, part of him wanted Gibbs to miraculously be late. The other part (the part that had realized and recognized that _something _had been off with the man lately) was anxious to know if his worrying thoughts in the elevator had any basis.

McGee adopted a slight troubled expression when he glanced up this time, giving a short sigh he replied, "No, actually. He's not in yet." The younger man chewed on his lower lip slightly before giving a dismissive shrug and turning back to his monitor, not giving it a second thought. While Tony's stomach pummeled the nine stories back to the first floor of NCIS. He was glad that McGee and Ziva were so busy with whatever they were doing because he didn't think he could keep a smile pasted on his face as he sank into his chair.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was late. In the five or so years they had been working together Tony had never known Gibbs to be late once, at least not without calling. Now, usually even if Gibbs were late it wouldn't give Tony reason to have a panic attack, but recently things had been _off _with the older man.

"Gibbs," he heard McGee welcome their boss. He caught a whiff of coffee and sawdust and instinctively knew the older man was around somewhere. Though his worry lessened, he had a role to play so...

"Yea, right McLiar," he said while keeping his head down, he knew what would come next...

And right on cue a heavy hand smacked the back of his head, "Why are you late DiNozzo?"

Oh, so many responses he could give. He could respond like a smart-aleck and ask why _he _was late, but both he and Gibbs had roles to keep with. And his was to say, "Thank you Boss. It won't happen again."

Looking up he saw Gibbs give a curt nod and move on towards his own desk, their roles fulfilled and it was now time to move on. As his old partner moved to take his seat at his desk Tony let his eyes scan over him, looking for visible signs of something being wrong. Lately, Tony had notice that something was off with his boss. He looked like he was getting less and less sleep, granted the man barely slept now as it was but recently the effects had been showing. It wasn't only sleep, usually like any man in their line of work who burned as much calories as they did daily, Gibbs had a healthy appetite. But, the few times they had ordered in takeout at the office instead of the digging in with the gusto Gibbs (and himself considering they did most of the running) had picked and scraped at his food. Normally this wouldn't of bothered Tony so much, but after a month or so of this going on Tony had also started to notice that whenever he spent time down in the basement (and he spent _a lot _of time down there) he hadn't seen Gibbs swallow a bite of anything more than a cracker.

Add all the facts together, and it was reason enough to bother Tony.

Over the noise of the office he heard the slight _'click-clacking' _of heels. Hundreds of woman in the office wore heels, but he knew who this woman was.

He moved his gaze from the object of his worry, up to the metal catwalk that encircled them all. Standing there, like he knew she would be, was their Director. Forearms on the railing and body slightly bent he followed her line of sight, and wasn't surprised at all when he realized that what she was so intensely focused on was a mop of silver hair.

Like she could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of her head she turned, her wine-red hair brushing her shoulders, and her eyes locked with his. His heart became heavy again, his stomach pummeled, and the icy-hand of fear shivered down his spine.

Because looking into those emerald orbs, he realized he wasn't the only one who knew that something was_ wrong._

* * *

Six hours later they were called out on a case, and Gibbs cursed his luck. The case was a kidnapping, to be specific it was the kidnapping of a marine wife. A _pregnant _marine's wife, who also so happened to have a seven year old little girl, who ended up witnessing the whole thing.

And to top it all off he had the epic of all headaches.

The crime scene was a two story 'white picket fence' dream house located in the rural area of Maryland. Due to the massive throbbing in between his temples, he'd thrown the keys to...one of his agents (he didn't quite remember which), and had taken the agency sedan alone.

Now, he was sitting here on the hood of his car like an idiot waiting for the rest his team to finally show up. Since he was waiting for them, it was most likely McGee behind the wheel considering Ziva would have beaten him here.

Thank god, he didn't think he could listen to DiNozzo's moaning.

Somewhere distantly, in the midst of the sirens and wailing coming from the other first responders at the scene, he heard the rumbling of the MCRT van. Looking up he saw it slowly ambling forward, and behind the wheel he could faintly make out the outline of McGee while the annoyed faces of David and DiNozzo glared at him.

_'Greattttttt...,' _he thought. Now he was going to have to listen to their bickering like little children.

His temples throbbed again.

His earlier consensus that he needed to relearn what it felt like to sleep in a bed sounded like an amazing idea. These headaches were getting more and more frequent, and was it just his imagination or were they getting worse?

Later he'd have to see if he still had some aspirin in the glove-box.

But, for now he'd settle for barking out orders at the junior agents piling out of the van.

"DiNozzo shoot!"

"McGee bag and tag!"

"David sketches!"

_'Photographs, bag-and-tag, sketches,' _he ran down the mental checklist. All that was left were witness statements.

Great, witness statements.

Typically taking witnesses statements wouldn't have bothered him, but now he turned towards the ambulance that was parked on the far end of the yard. Where sitting there was a small bundle balled up under a blanket, their witness. Even from this distance he could see the chocolate colored braid going down her back, and the startling green eyes that were framed by loose wispy curls.

He really tried not to picture her with blue eyes.

Honestly.

* * *

"Can you tell me your name?" Gibbs asked, when he was standing right in front of her. Of course he already knew her name, he probably knew more about her from five minutes of background checks then she would most likely ever know about herself. But, asking her name...maybe he could gain points in earning her trust.

Slowly she looked up, disoriented from all the flashing lights on the scene she blinked, cutely. Her green eyes shining suspiciously, but still when she spoke again her voice was steady.

"Lillian, but my friends call me Lilly." She bowed her head again, all the while fiddling with a loose strand of the ratty blanket that was wrapped around her.

Ignoring the cracking in his knees and the pounding in his head, he started to sink to the ground in front of her. He'd only made it about halfway down when the world tilted alarming to one side, hence the reason he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

His aching knees protested the landing, and the way the world was spinning wasn't doing anything for his headache.

"Are you alright, Sir?" A high-pitched voice asked him, and tiny hands grabbed his apparently swaying form.

As if he were imitating her earlier action, Gibbs blinked slowly a few times. Around the third or fourth time he managed to bring the worried face of his seven year old witness into focus, the dizziness was gradually melting away to the point where he no longer felt like he was going to fall over.

Gently he shook her hands off, and he automatically wished he hadn't. Hurt by what she perceived as rejection she bowed her head again, now that they were on eye level (his intended purpose for falling) he brought a finger up and cupped her small chin. Tilting her head up he made sure he looked the least threatening so as not to scare her, but it was hard when he caught a better look at what had originally caught his attention earlier. The large purple bruise that marred the pale skin over her jaw bone, his teeth clenched and he had the sudden urge to go beat whatever bastard had done this to her, into a pulp. But, for now he filed it away as mental note.

Still cupping her chin, he spoke softly, "Yea. I'm okay, it was just...vertigo. Have you ever heard of vertigo?"

_'Yea,' _he thought wryly. He'd been having a _lot _of vertigo lately.

Studiously she tried to nod her head, though it was a hard because of the hand holding her chin. He dropped his hand and she continued nodding as she spoke, "A sensation of motion in which the individual or the individual's surroundings seem to whirl dizzily."

He couldn't help it, he laughed! Her little face had just been so serious, and to hear those words coming from this sweet little girl who sounded more like an adult than a seven year old!

Her button nose scrunched up in a offended sort of pout, "Hey, sir! What's so funny?" She demanded.

Instantly he cut the chuckling off, he hadn't meant to offend her, and yet at her demand he wanted to laugh again. Though instead of laughing he adopted a repentant look, and decided to get something straight right then and there.

"Alright, let's get something straight. None of this sir nonsense. You call me Jethro." Here he was a little out of his depth, usually he would've told a kid to call him Gibbs. But, somehow he had the funny feeling that his normal approach with children wouldn't go over so well with Lillian.

The wrinkles around her nose relaxed, and her glaring stopped. Where before she had looked offended and angry, now she looked like a hesitant seven year old when she spoke again.

"It's rude to call an adult by his first name, sir."

_'Is she a seven year old from the 21st century?' _he thought disbelieving. In this day and age it was rare to find a child that would actually call him sir, let alone tell him that it was rude to call him by his first name. After the shock wore off, he managed to form a response.

"Well that's true, but not if I gave you permission. And I do. Now, since I'm letting you call me Jethro may I call you Lilly?"

This she took time to seriously consider, her little eyebrows bunched up and the corner of her mouth turned down in concentration. She seemed hesitant when she spoke again, "Welllllll..." She dragged the word out. "I guess so," as if she were sealing the deal she stuck her tiny hand out, "Nice to meet you Jethro."

She said it as if this were any old occurrence, like she wasn't huddled in the back of ambulance after witnessing the brutal kidnapping of her mother. And despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Gibbs stuck his hand out capturing her tiny white one in his large tan one.

"Nice to meet you too Lilly."

They shook on it.

After sealing the deal, he released her hand and stood back up. Though the dizziness wasn't as bad as it was before, he still kept a steady hand on the side door of the ambulance.

Just as a precaution, of course.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to fall down again, he looked back down at the shivering ball curled up under the blanket. He hadn't noticed it before but now he realized that while he was trying to make friends with their witness, the sun had set over the horizon and the temperatures had dropped with it. The strobe lights from the police cars illuminated a shivering Lilly, the blanket she was under was doing nothing for her.

He slid his NCIS jacket off, and clutching it in one hand he used the other to grasp the edges of the ratty blanket. Her large green eyes looked at him with confusion, and she stubbornly kept a hold on the blanket that she was holding onto like a lifeline.

"Just trust me, okay?" He grumbled, and arched an eyebrow in a _'well what's gonna be' _kind of way.

One moment of deliberation later and her fingers relaxed their furious grip, the blanket slid down her hunched back and pooled on the metal flooring of the ambulance. Gibbs took a moment to scan her over for any more visible injuries. Though the dark blue jeans she was wearing looked to be torn at the calf, and her black thermal long-sleeve shirt was dirty. Nothing else besides the bruise on her jaw looked to be wrong.

After his visual examination was over, he took the slick wind breaker and draped it over her tiny form. Once he'd made sure it wasn't going to fall off her, he took a step back and allowed her to choose whether she wanted to keep it on or not. She looked down again once he draped it over, and slid her arms through the sleeves. Concentrating on her task she managed to get her hands through the sleeves so that she had use of her fingers, after a few missed attempts she managed to get it zipped up.

He did a quick sweep of the scene, his agents were working on getting it secure. Right now it was kind of in a dead-zone, they couldn't do anything until the scene was secure. And once it was there would be no moments of stillness while they tried to beat the clock and get Marissa Harding and her unborn child home safely. Until then, well-there was Lilly.

He glanced back over and realized she had managed to get the jacket on. Well, there was no point in them being here anymore... So he stuck his hand out, and without any prompting whatsoever she took it, using it to steady herself as she jumped off the tailgate.

Tugging gently on her hand he turned to go, but she hesitated planting her feet firmly. When he felt her resistance he turned back to look at her, neither said anything she just cocked her head to the side, questioning him with her eyes. She dropped his hand.

Not wanting to think to much on the fact that he'd felt the briefest twang of loss when she'd dropped his hand. He scanned his eyes over her again, wondering if there was a physical reason for her not walking. He didn't see anything wrong with her, but the sight of the seven year old in a jacket that's hem went down to her ankles and sleeves went down to her knees made his heart ache.

"You coming?" He desperately hoped the hoarse quality of his voice would pass over unnoticed.

Her tilting slightly more to the side let him know that it hadn't gone unnoticed, but he was utterly grateful when she just nodded her head. Before she could actually bring it up he turned again and started walking, he heard the grass rustling as she tripped over his jacket so he knew she was following him.

Instinctively he shortened his strides so she could catch with him, and he kept facing forward even as he felt slim fingers slide into his own.

Despite the soreness in his knees, the throbbing in his temples, and the aching in his heart; he smiled.

* * *

During their time at the crime scene Tony had kept one eye on Gibbs the whole time as he talked to the kid. Though the fact that he was talking to a little girl caused Tony a brief flash of worry, nothing else caught his attention other than the little swaying scene as Gibbs crouched to the kids eye level.

At the time he'd tried to come up with a good enough reason to go over and interrogate his Boss into telling him what was wrong. But, before he could come up with a good enough excuse not to feel like a mother hen Gibbs and the kid were already immersed in a conversation.

_'The kid,' _if she was going to be sticking around for a little while he really needed to find out her name, he reminded himself.

Though he kept the couple at the ambulance in his peripheral vision after that he concentrated more on what he was doing. There was no reason to mess up and have Gibbs take the time to yell at him when every second counted towards finding Marissa Harding safe and alive. He was doing an okay job too, until he saw movement from Gibbs.

Glancing up he saw Gibbs and the kid walking across the darkened lawn, hand-in hand.

The flash from his camera taking a picture was lost in the chaos of the scene.

* * *

**No, the story won't be completely focused on Lilly. She's just a part of it, but I thought it would be a nice AU. Carson to Lilly. Jenny will be coming up soon I promise. Should I continue?**

**If you don't like. Don't review.**


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